


Wayward Son

by masquerade97



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Ending, Angst, Barn scene, Canon Universe, Episode Fix-It: s15e20 Carry On, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, human!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27805939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masquerade97/pseuds/masquerade97
Summary: so weird how the spn finale was just an hour of dead air. that was weird right? anyway this is what i think happened
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 80





	Wayward Son

**Author's Note:**

> unfortunately, this fic does assume that the english version of 15x18 is the one that happened. the spanish one is still better though

Cas wasn’t sure how long he’d been in the empty; there wasn’t anything to gauge by. There was nothing to see, nothing to hear, nothing to feel. He supposed being conscious here was… something. But he was sure that would fade in time as well and he’d finally cease to exist. Certainly that had been what he’d thought the last time he’d been there, the only difference was that he was sure that this time, _this time_ , he wouldn’t be going back. 

He’d made peace with that - accepted it before he’d made his confession to Dean. The thought still brought him peace. Yes, Dean would be okay, and that would be enough. 

That line of thinking was the reason that, when Cas became aware of a blinding light in the distance, he thought his essence was finally being chewed up, and he would once again become only so many molecules, so much stardust. But the light didn’t become all-encompassing - no, it dimmed and solidified as it drew closer, and two golden eyes stared out of it. 

Cas had come to know those eyes well. They were gold, like their father’s, but warmer, kinder now. “Jack?” Cas asked, and his brow would have furrowed if he’d still had one. “What are you doing here?”

Jack smiled at him. “I came to get you,” he said, reaching a hand out to the nothingness beside him. He sunk his fingers into it and pulled it aside like a curtain, revealing a light so bright Cas thought he might not be able to see anything if he stepped into it. 

“To get me?”

“I don’t think you should be here,” Jack said, inclining his head to indicate Cas should step through the curtain. 

Cas was pretty sure he _was_ supposed to be there - that was the whole point, he’d thought - but seeing as Jack had used a considerable amount of power and come all this way, he saw no need to refuse. 

As he stepped into the light, Cas felt himself solidify from the ground up. It stung, like his body had fallen asleep and was starting to wake up all at once. But it felt good, and with the first lungful of air came the rush of power that Cas recognized as his grace pumping through him. 

_Back again_ , Cas thought to himself. He felt almost giddy, but then reconsidered. The landscape around him was familiar; the entrance to the bunker was no more than a hundred yards to his right. But something was off. In the distance, he could make out a shimmering boundary. If he were a soul here, he knew he’d never reach the edge. As an angel though, stepping through would only take a bit of concentration. Cas glanced over at Jack beside him and cocked his head curiously. Jack looked different here. “Heaven?” he asked. 

Jack nodded. “Heaven.”

“How did you do that?” Now that he was focused and his grace had settled, Cas could almost hear the hum of power coming off of Jack. 

“I replaced Chuck,” Jack replied simply. “I took the ending out of his hands.”

Cas smiled. It had all worked out then. “I’m proud of you.”

Jack preened slightly under the praise, but was quickly back to business. “I have some questions. About heaven.”

“Okay,” Cas said, nodding. He glanced around and wondered briefly if this _would_ be his heaven, should he ever get one. 

“The way it’s broken up for each soul,” Jack started, “why is that?”

“Heaven is different for everyone,” Cas replied. “So everyone gets their own heaven. With the exception of soulmates.”

Jack pondered this. “Seems lonely.”

“Individuals see who they want to see,” Cas added. “Projections - memories - of those they loved. They don’t feel lonely.”

“Hmm,” Jack said. He seemed troubled. “They’re only memories?”

“A person’s best memories.” Cas couldn’t pinpoint why he felt so defensive of the idea. Perhaps because he wanted so badly to hold on to memories of his own. The thought made him smile. “I remember a story Dean told me,” he continued, “about a friend he had. I believe he said it was the first time he visited heaven, Dean found this friend, who had died, in his heaven. And this friend had found a way to hack the system and connect his heaven to those of people he had known.”

Jack straightened. He studied Cas. His face was inexpressive, but it was clear the wheels in his mind were turning. “I want heaven to be like that,” he finally said. 

Cas considered. “Connected?”

Jack nodded, turned his attention to the barrier in the distance. “I think people want to be together.”

Cas smiled, nodded to himself. “If I’ve learned anything about them, and I think I have, it’s that nothing brings them joy like being with the people they love.”

Silence stretched between them for a moment. A breeze moved across the landscape, and some small animal scurried nearby. It was peaceful, serene. But Cas felt Jack’s point sink into his bones. Even if he had a memory here to keep him company, something would be missing. 

“Let’s take down the barriers,” Jack said, a determined edge to his voice. 

When Cas glanced over at him, at this boy he’d grown to love as a son, he saw Jack’s eyes glowing again. It struck him how much Jack had grown up, had become his own person, had used what he’d learned to save the people he loved most. Cas smiled and put a hand on Jack’s shoulder, and Jack only glowed brighter. “Let’s.”

The barriers came down easily. Some remained, of course; people with no real connection to each other would remain separated, but otherwise the walls between them either became permeable or dissolved entirely, depending on the wants of the soul in question. 

In time Cas came across Bobby Singer. To this point, Cas had kept himself hidden from the souls he’d come across, but something in him ached to say hello. Sentimentality, perhaps. 

Cas approached Bobby cautiously, not sure how his presence here in Bobby’s heaven would be received. He needn’t have worried. “Good morning, Bobby,” he said politely. It seemed to be morning here, anyway. 

Bobby grinned when he looked up and saw his visitor. “Well I’ll be damned,” he said. “How are you, Cas?”

Cas smiled. “I’m well,” he replied. “I was just in the neighborhood.”

Bobby’s face fell, ever so slightly. “You mean you’re…?” 

“No, not anymore,” Cas said quickly. He started to explain, but decided against it. Bobby was used to it by now. “Just taking care of some… renovations.”

“Renovations?”

“Jack and I,” Cas said, his expression shifting to one of pride of its own accord. “Well, it was Jack’s idea. We’re removing barriers between heavens.”

Bobby leaned back in his chair and inclined his head curiously. “Removing barriers.”

“You’ll be able to visit others,” Cas explained, “your friends. You won’t be bound to one place.”

Bobby looked around at his house. “You mean it won’t just be memories.”

Cas shook his head. “Not if you don’t want it to be.”

“Like life, without all the hunting crap,” Bobby said, a grin spreading across his face when he turned back to Cas. 

Cas chuckled. “I suppose.”

“I always thought that that was how heaven would be,” Bobby said. “Was a little disappointed to get here and find it the way it was.”

“Jack said he thought it sounded lonely.”

“He’s right.”

“Well, he learned about family from the best.”

Bobby snorted a laugh. “Not to toot your own horn or anything.”

“I meant Sam and Dean,” Cas said, but he almost felt himself blush anyway. 

“Take the compliment Cas. You’re family too, you know that.”

Cas nodded. “I know.”

“Speaking of,” Bobby said, settling further into his seat, “how are the boys?”

Cas spread his empty hands in a shrug. “I’ve been dead.”

Bobby laughed. “What else is new?”

“All I know is that Jack replaced Chuck,” Cas added. “I don’t know what else there is to tell.”

“So Jack’s, what, in charge now?”

“He is.” Cas looked out the window, toward the horizon. A barrier in the distance fizzled out even as Cas watched. 

“Well,” Bobby said. “The boy’s moving up in the world.”

Cas smiled, but didn’t say anything at first. Moving up in the world. That was certainly one way to put it. “I should go.”

“Lots of work to do.” Bobby sighed, looked Cas over quickly as if gauging what he thought the angel would do next. “Well, come back and visit sometime.”

“I will,” Cas promised, and he was gone again. 

Time worked differently here, but Cas was sure the project hadn’t taken too long from start to finish. He and Jack were in a room, in heaven’s main compound. Angels warily milled about outside, but for now they paid them no mind. Instead, their attention was turned to a map, not quite to scale, laid out on a long table.

“It’s perfect,” Jack finally declared.

Cas had to agree. There were fewer hard lines on this map, larger tracts of connected space. “What now?”

A thoughtful look crossed Jack’s face, and Cas couldn’t tell if it was because he hadn’t thought this far, or because he didn’t know which project to tackle next. 

“I think the rest of heaven could use some rebuilding,” Jack said. He looked up at Cas when he said it. He looked sure of his decision, but not unlike someone who still wanted the approval of someone he cared about.

“It’s certainly been through a lot the last several years,” Cas agreed. A pang of guilt shot through him and he dropped his gaze.

“I think I can rebuild heaven’s ranks,” Jack said with a nod. He turned his gaze back to the table. The map was gone, replaced by a list of symbols, each representing an angel. “I want angels to _serve_ mankind again.”

Cas was quiet, scanning the list. So many names were missing, but there, near the top, his own name. Heading the list was a new symbol - Cas had never seen it before, but he knew instinctively that this was Jack’s name on the list. 

“Something’s wrong.”

Cas looked up quickly. He was so used to those words being used to indicate an advancing enemy, but all he found was Jack studying him. “What is?”

“I don’t know,” Jack said. He turned so he was fully facing Cas. “Are you okay?”

Cas shook his head once - a small motion. “The list is much shorter than the last time I saw it. That’s all.”

Jack considered. He tilted his head to one side and narrowed his eyes a bit as he tried to decipher Cas’ expression. “You don’t want to stay here, do you?”

Cas was taken aback, but he stopped himself from denying it outright. Did he want to stay? He didn’t know. He’d planned on dying in the empty, dying _for good_ this time. So in examining what he wanted, he was surprised to find that Jack had sorted it out before he had. “I don’t,” he said. He thought he’d be afraid to admit it, afraid to admit to Jack that he was tired of all of this, and that all he wanted to do now was pass the responsibility to someone who wanted it, and to go be with his family. All he felt on saying it out loud was relief. Relief and a deep pain he distantly recognized as homesickness. “I want to go home.”

Jack smiled, nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I can take it from here.”

And there it was. So simple. Cas was so used to a fight that it took a moment before he actually understood what Jack had said. “Thank you,” he managed.

“I can take you straight to Sam and Dean, if you want,” Jack offered. “Or I can take you somewhere else first.”

“Somewhere else?” Where else was there?

“You’re right,” Jack said with a smirk. He got a faraway look in his eye for half a second, then nodded. “They’re on a hunt. Ohio somewhere. I can drop you right where they are.”

“I would like that.” Another hunt. Cas thought he could handle that. Hopefully it was something simple. They’d all had more than their share of excitement.

“And one more thing.”

What else could there be? “What is it?”

“Do you want to be an angel?”

It was Cas’ turn to narrow his eyes suspiciously. He’d never quite had a choice in the matter, whether he was or not. “What do you mean?”

“If you’re an angel, you stay as you are, right?” Jack explained. “But I can trade you your grace for a soul. You can be _human_. You won’t have to worry about the rest of it.”

That was possible? But of course it was possible; Jack could do what he liked now. “What about you?” Cas asked. “What if you need help?”

Jack smiled at him. “If I need help, I’ll know where to find you,” he said. “I don’t have a reason to think you wouldn’t help me.”

Cas couldn’t remember the last time he’d been asked to consider his own wants. Not ever really, and certainly not to this extent. 

“Listen,” Jack said, clearly sensing Cas’ hesitation. “You’re like humanity. You’re like the souls here. Nothing brings you joy like being with those you love.”

Cas laughed, but it was a wet sound and he wasn’t quite surprised to find that he had tears in his eyes. Those he loved. The Winchesters. Sam. _Dean_. “You’ve gotten very smart, you know that.”

Jack gave him a lopsided grin. “I learned from the best.”

Cas laughed again. Hadn’t he said as much to Bobby? “Okay,” he said, wiping his face. He took a breath to steady himself. “No, I don’t want to be an angel anymore.” And what a relief, to say that out loud.

Jack’s smile lost a bit of its mirth, and he looked down briefly. Cas was struck suddenly by how young he really was. When he lifted his head though, Jack was as confident as he’d been since pulling Cas out of the empty. Even so, he crossed the small space between them and wrapped his arms tightly around Cas.

Cas returned the hug easily. “You don’t have to be a stranger you know,” he said. “I know you’ll have important work to do, but you know you always have an open invitation to visit. We won’t turn you away.”

“I might have to take you up on that,” Jack replied, his voice muffled slightly from Cas’ suit jacket. After a moment, he pulled back and shook himself back to the task at hand. “Follow me.”

Cas did, feeling his excitement bubble to the surface. He nodded politely to the angels they passed in the corridor, and he recognized all of them. They gave him curious looks and kept a watchful eye on Jack, unsure of what he had planned. Cas paid them no mind.

They reached a door at the end of the hall. It was plain, like all the rest, but the knob was gilded, reflecting a warm light. Jack turned the knob and pushed the door open, and there in front of them stood the Impala, shiny and black in the night air. Behind her stood a barn, a little worn and lacking the luster of the car parked in front of it. 

Cas smiled, thinking of another barn, so many years ago. He glanced at Jack when he felt him staring.

“It might take your grace a few days to fade away completely,” Jack said, “but congratulations Castiel. You’re just as human as the rest of them as soon as you step through the door.”

Cas stood another moment, taking the time to steady himself. “I don’t know how to thank you Jack.”

“No need to thank me. Consider this my thank you to you.”

Cas couldn’t help himself. He wrapped Jack in one last hug, told him he loved him, that he’d see him soon. And after a minute or so, took a step through the door and onto the grass. He heard the door click shut behind him and didn’t bother to turn around, though he did reach back with his hand to see if he could feel the knob. All he felt was empty air.

There was a crash from inside the barn, and Cas almost smiled. Had he expected anything else from the Winchesters? He thought he might as well join in, and he could make an entrance while he was at it, couldn’t he? He still had his grace for now, even if he could already feel it fading.

So he stepped up to the barn doors and the sounds of struggle, and he forced the doors open with this grace. The rush of power did as it had all those years ago, and the doors slammed open. Sparks rained as power overloaded the filaments in the lights hanging from the ceiling. All motion in the barn stopped, and Cas felt as powerful and invincible as he had when he’d said to Dean, “My name is Castiel. I’m an angel of the Lord.”

But this was a different barn, and there was an actual enemy here. Vampires, from the carnage that greeted him. One lunged at him, dropping Sam, gasping, to the ground. Cas had his blade from his sleeve in an instant, and the vampire fell easily. The two pinning Dean came at him together, and one from the shadows with them, and Cas was a hurricane in the middle.

It was over in a second. Cas hadn’t even broken a sweat. But now he was faced with Sam and Dean, who were both staring at him. He looked between the two of them, suddenly unsure where he should focus his attention; they both looked a little banged up, but neither seemed to notice at the moment.

“Cas?” Sam asked finally, pushing himself to his feet.

Cas was almost grateful for Sam to greet him first. He was even grateful for Sam to wrap him in a bear hug. 

“How’d you come back?” Sam asked when he broke the hug, staying at arm’s length and looking Cas over carefully, as if he could find the answer written on his suit somewhere.

“Jack,” was all Cas said. It seemed like enough of an explanation for now.

Sam nodded as if this made perfect sense, though perhaps it did. “Right, um,” he said. He looked over his shoulder at Dean, who was still on the floor of the barn, propped up on his elbows. “I should, uh, go find the kids.” He nodded as if giving himself permission, and ducked out of the barn.

With that, Cas turned his attention to Dean. He wanted to help Dean stand, wanted to heal his wounds and hold him and tell him that everything would be okay now, but he was stopped by the look on Dean’s face. It was hard to describe, hard to process. He was surprised, that was for sure, but he also looked lost, and hopeful, and terrified, and relieved, and, and, and… And Cas simply couldn’t make a move to him. All he could manage was a quiet, “Dean.”

The word snapped him out of his trance, and Dean was on his feet in a blink. Without a moment’s hesitation he was across the barn and he had Cas in a grip so tight that Cas was grateful he still had any of his grace left, for fear he’d have cracked a rib otherwise.

“Cas,” Dean managed, and his words were thick. “You’re back.”

“I always come back to you,” Cas managed. He returned the hug tentatively, and his embrace only made Dean’s arms tighten further around him.

They stood there for a while - Cas wasn’t sure how long. Long enough that it was Sam’s voice talking to the children they’d saved that made Dean jump back. Dean’s eyes were wet, but he quickly scrubbed his hands over his face and steadied himself.

“I gotta- We should-” Dean stuttered and shook himself. “Let’s go.” He put a hand on Cas’ shoulder to turn him toward the doors, as he’d done so many times before. A habit. He didn’t seem to know he’d done it, but Cas followed willingly. A habit.

“Ready to go?” Sam asked, his expression carefully neutral. He looked comically tall next to the children, and Cas couldn’t help smiling.

“You waiting for more vamps to show up?” Dean asked, his voice back to that defensive tone he used when he was trying to hold himself together for a while longer.

“You don’t want round two?” Sam joked. He smiled when Dean glared at him. 

Cas slid into the seat behind the driver. He smiled at the kids when they warily climbed in next to him. “Get some sleep,” he whispered to them. “You’ve been through a lot.”

They seemed to agree, because they leaned against each other and within seconds they were both sound asleep.

Cas turned to face forward in time to see Dean hold something out to him from the front seat. His coat. Cas thanked him and sank his fingers into the worn fabric. It’d been cleaned recently. He studied it as the Impala’s engine roared to life, but decided against analyzing it for now. Instead he spread it over the kids next to him to keep them warm.

Cas could feel Sam’s eyes on him, and he caught Dean watching him in the rear-view too. He might have said something if he’d been able to think of anything. Instead, he leaned back in his seat and watched Ohio slide past him out the window. There would be plenty of time for talking later.

* * *

Dean had, quite simply, had enough. 

First, Cas had made a freaking confession of _love_ before promptly dying. And, sure, Cas died a lot, but that didn’t make it any easier. And Cas loved him? Dean had known for a while that Cas loved them - hell, the angel had _told_ them he loved them a few years ago. But loving Dean? Specifically? And then dying for it? Wasn't that how it always went, the people who loved Dean ended up dead? Dean pushed that back; he couldn’t process it right now. 

Second, Jack had taken over for Chuck. That part was pretty cool, and the thought of his son (“Jack’s our son, isn’t he?” Dean had asked Sam at one point, when he’d had a little too much to drink. “The three of us, you, me, and Cas. He’s our son?” Sam had given him a strange look and said something about Jack being family. Dean couldn’t remember the details at this point.) being the one in charge of just about everything was pretty gratifying. Even so, Dean found himself looking for Jack around the bunker, in the rear-view mirror. Life was just, quiet. Lonely. 

And third, he was going to die in this stupid barn in middle-of-nowhere Ohio. He’d tried to keep up a strong front for Sam, but he knew Sam saw right through it - he always had. Dean had kept his research on the empty to their off hours, enjoyed walking the dog and goofing off when Sam was with him, talked to Jack when he thought the kid might be listening. When he had, by chance, come across this vampire case, he’d welcomed the distraction. Nest of vamps? Piece of cake! They’d done it so many times before. 

When he’d shown Sam the news story, Sam had given him a look that said _can’t we let someone else handle that?_ But Dean insisted, and Sam indulged him. 

The drive was pleasant enough. It was even easy, once they knew where the nest was. 

“Dean, are you sure this hunt isn’t just a distraction?” Sam asked as the sun went down. They’d been driving with only the radio keeping them company. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about Sammy,” Dean replied, turning up the volume on the radio. But he knew. And it was. Was that a crime? To be distracted for a little while?

With how Dean’s night was going, he would have thought maybe the universe _did_ think it was a crime. With Jack in charge, Dean thought maybe he’d be able to catch a break, but maybe he’d just tempted fate too much in his time. So now he was going to die, pinned down by two vampires, on a hunt, just like he’d thought he would for so long.

 _This isn’t how it’s supposed to go_ , Dean thought angrily. He struggled against the hands holding him down, almost growling in his rage. He wasn’t _supposed_ to die like this. This was how _Chuck_ had wanted him to die, right? He’d managed to claw his way out of this ending, take away Chuck’s power to finish him like this, but still here he was. As angry as he was over it, he felt terror clawing back into his heart; it didn’t matter how many times he’d done this, the thought of dying still got to him.

There was a _bang_ , and Dean wondered briefly if Sam had managed to fire a gun. But the sound didn’t ring like a gunshot, and a heartbeat later sparks were raining down from busted fixtures on the ceiling. The adrenaline kept Dean’s heart beating, which was good, because otherwise he thought it might stop altogether.

He knew what this was.

He’d seen it before.

There was a split second of stillness, and then Dean heard Sam drop to the floor with a thud and a groan. Dean managed to catch a flurry of movement from where his captors still had him pinned down. A second after that, the pressure on his body was released, and he managed to prop himself on his elbows in time to see Cas finish this hunt with inhuman speed. 

But that couldn’t be right.

Could it?

Perhaps it could. Dean was staring at Castiel, wondering if he’d actually died and gone to heaven and had simply not been paying attention. Cas didn’t seem any worse for wear, anyway. He was missing his trench coat - but of course he was; the coat was in the Impala’s trunk - and the blade he held in his hand was soiled with vampire blood, but other than that, he seemed just like himself.

Sam moved first, and Dean was grateful for that. His mind still hadn’t caught up. And seeing Cas _here_ made everything Dean had been trying to force to the back of his mind come rushing forward. He was sure that even if he had something to say, he wouldn’t have been able to force his tongue loose to form the words. (Of course he’d fantasized about what he might say if he saw Cas again. What was the point of digging up the information about the empty he needed if he wasn’t going to let some small part of him hope to see Cas again?)

When Sam excused himself (a little awkwardly, Dean managed to notice), Cas turned his eyes to Dean. His expression was curious, as it so often was, but there was something else too. Something with more weight to it. “Dean.”

The word crashed into Dean like a tidal wave. He rolled onto his feet in a flash and crossed the distance between them. He knew what he should do now: salt, silver, holy water. He had to make sure this was real, and not some sick game. 

He didn’t do that.

Instead, he wrapped his arms around Cas and held him as close as he could. “Cas,” he managed, the lump in his throat threatening to spill over into full-on sobs. “You’re back.”

“I always come back to you,” Cas replied, his voice rumbling through Dean’s chest as his arms circled around Dean’s waist.

Dean choked back a sob. He did, didn’t he? Cas always came back. Dean hugged him tighter, determined not to let go this time because yes, this hunt had been a distraction. Everything they’d done since finally being rid of Chuck had been a distraction. All Dean had wanted was another minute like this with Cas, and the possibility of never being able to have one again had simply been too much. 

It could have been hours, but was probably only minutes, later when Sam’s voice approached the barn again. Dean quickly released his grip on Cas, rubbing the tears from his face as he did so. 

“I gotta- We should-” Dean stuttered. He shook himself. _Keep it together. Just a little longer._ “Let’s go.” Without thinking about it, he put a hand on Cas’ shoulder to guide him to the barn doors. 

“Ready to go?” Sam asked when they emerged into the cool night air. 

“You waiting for more vamps to show up?” Dean countered. He hoped his tone cut off whatever sentimentality Sam would try to pull.

“You don’t want round two?” Sam asked with a slightly crooked smile. 

Dean glared at him, but didn’t bother saying anything. _I didn’t particularly want round one_ , he thought. 

While everyone started piling into the car, Dean opened the trunk. Cas’ coat was sprawled there, just where he’d left it. He picked it up carefully, folded it. He’d washed it before he’d washed his own clothes when he and Sam had returned to the bunker; it wouldn’t do if he’d managed to free Cas from the empty, only to hand him back a dirty coat. 

The drive to bring the kids home was uneventful, thankfully. They gave the local authorities the usual “following leads” story, and they were so pleased to have the boys back that they didn’t ask too many questions, which Dean appreciated; he had Baby on the road again as soon as he could.

“We can stop for a while,” Sam suggested at one point. 

“Don’t want to stop,” Dean said, his jaw set. It had been just about a full day since he’d had any sleep, and while he could feel it getting to him, he really just wanted to be home.

“I could drive,” Sam offered.

“I can ride up front so you can sleep in the back,” Cas added.

Dean’s grip on the wheel tightened briefly. “I’m fine.”

Sam didn’t look like he bought it, and Dean could feel Cas’ eyes boring into the back of his head, but he elected to ignore them. “We’ll be home soon.”

The silence that followed was uncomfortable, bordering on awkward. Dean was determined not to break it, so he stared at the road ahead. He heard Sam ask Cas for more details on how he’d gotten back, and he heard something about Jack and heaven. He knew he should be paying attention, but really he was just getting lost in hearing Cas talk. It wasn’t even like Cas had been gone that long - certainly not as long as he’d been gone in the past - but wow, Dean had sure missed that voice.

The last stop to make before getting home was to pick up Miracle from a neighbors’ house, in town. The dog pranced happily to the car, and after curiously sniffing Cas all over, she settled onto the seat, watching Cas expectantly for attention.

“She’s friendly,” Cas said, running his hands across Miracle’s ears.

“Wouldn’t have a mean dog,” Dean replied. He’d meant it to come out as more of a joke, but his exhaustion was catching up to him and the joke fell flat. He managed a small smile in the mirror, and Cas seemed to catch it anyway.

“Of course.”

When they pulled into the bunker’s garage and Dean killed the engine, he thought he might just fall asleep right there in the driver’s seat. He was tempted to. He didn’t, but he was tempted. Instead he mumbled a quick, “I’m turning in. See you in the morning,” and took Miracle down to his room. He heard Cas say, “Sleep well,” in response, but he didn’t have an answer to that. 

Dean wasn’t sure how long he slept. He stared at the time when he woke, but he couldn’t seem to remember when he’d gone to bed, so the time meant almost nothing to him. Miracle, though, had some thoughts about what time it was, and she watched Dean intently, her head on her paws.

“Okay, I’m up,” Dean muttered. He rubbed Miracle’s head when the dog’s tail wagged at the sound of his voice.

No one was up by the time Dean walked into the kitchen, and he was still alone by the time he’d fed Miracle and had breakfast. Just as well. Let them rest. Dean scrawled out a note that he’d taken Miracle for a walk, and grabbed a leash, Miracle very patiently _not_ pulling on him as they walked out, even when Dean slowed to look at the names carved into the desk in the main room.

A walk was good. The morning was crisp, the eastern horizon just turning pink. Usually they took a loop that lasted about half an hour. Today was not usual.

Dean had to think. Just think. So he and Miracle took a long way. And then a longer way. And then Dean finally managed to say, “I had the weirdest dream last night.”

Miracle stilled and looked up briefly at the sound of Dean’s voice, but when Dean said nothing further she went back to sniffing.

Dean decided not to think about his dream just yet.

He thought instead about the future. It wasn’t such a long way off anymore. For years the universe had just thrown things at them, and he’d died, and Sam had died, and then their mom was back, and getting to that happily-ever-after, if there was going to be one, was always so far away. Now, no one was writing his story but him. No more destiny, no more meddling, just real, actual, free will.

And Cas was back. Was actually _back_.

Best to leave that alone for the moment too.

They’d managed to walk far enough past their usual loop that they’d come to the water that Sam liked to jog by. Dean watched the sun come up for a moment, the sky shifting to brilliant shades of pink and blue. Why did the sunrise always look so beautiful when the world finally calmed around him?

It was a new day, for one thing. A day where he had no agenda, no big picture. He could scroll through the internet looking for hunts, but he found he had no desire to. He’d been burned out a few times before, but this felt worlds different from even that. No, he wanted to hang around and watch movies. He wanted to go on a road trip for the hell of it, not to find some evil thing that lived in the shadows. He wanted to just _be_ , with his family. And maybe that apple-pie life was still out of reach, he didn’t know, but maybe something resembling it was just waiting for him to find it. The possibility stirred a bit of excitement in his chest. It was something he’d kept locked up tight somewhere inside himself for long enough that to consider it as an ending he really could achieve was mystifying.

They passed a bench, and Dean took a seat to watch the water for a bit. He patted the seat beside him and Miracle jumped up, stretching her front legs across Dean’s lap. Dean absently scratched under the dog’s collar.

“What if we didn’t hunt anymore?” Dean asked. He didn’t know who he was talking to, but he figured he might as well try the words out. He didn’t like how they tasted. He’d hunted his whole life, and for better or worse, he couldn’t just _stop_ . Maybe take a break for a while. That sounded better. Maybe help other hunters when they needed it. He remembered when Bobby used to do that, used to take calls and pretend to be their superior officer, used to call other hunters he knew in the area and find backup, and he smiled. Maybe there was something to that. Maybe he could try that for a while instead.

“Do you ever have weird dreams?” Dean asked, looking down at the dog in his lap.

Miracle didn’t answer. Her head was tilted slightly and her eyes were closed, clearly enjoying having Dean scratch her.

Dean patted Miracle and looked back to the water. He wasn’t good at analyzing dreams, but the reasoning for this one seemed fairly straightforward. He’d nearly died, and Cas had come back to life in probably the most dramatic way possible, and so he supposed it made sense for his mind to fixate on _life_ and on _Cas_ and on maybe, just maybe, getting to enjoy those two together. 

_I love you, Dean._ Those words had played and replayed in Dean’s head since Cas had spoken them. He’d been stunned. He’d wanted to respond, and when he replayed the scene in his mind he would sometimes change the ending to one where the empty hadn’t grabbed Cas away from him, and he’d been able to cross the space to Cas and hold him and assure him that _I love you too._ Because of course he did. He didn’t know how long it had been true, but he knew it now. And he wanted Cas to know, really _know_ for sure, that it was true.

But those words were always too hard to say out loud. He could have said them in the barn yesterday. He could have taken Sam up on his offer to stop and figured a way to eek out a few minutes alone with Cas. He could have just gone to Cas’ room this morning.

A buzz in his pocket pulled Dean back to the present. The sun was fully awake now, sitting above the horizon. People were starting to walk the path by Dean on their morning runs or on their way into town. How long had he been sitting here?

Dean had to move Miracle so he could get to his phone, and the dog happily jumped down, ready for the next adventure.

There was a text from Sam, making sure he was okay. Dean replied that he was on his way back. 

The walk back was more straightforward than the meandering path they had trekked to the lake. And the whole way, Dean felt butterflies in his stomach. He almost scoffed at the idea. Dean Winchester did _not_ get butterflies.

When they returned to the bunker, Dean’s hand hesitated over the door handle for just a moment before he steeled himself and walked in, releasing Miracle as the door opened.

Okay, maybe Dean Winchester _did_ get butterflies. But only a little.

The foyer was empty. This early, Dean figured the best place to check was the kitchen. Miracle seemed to think so too, as that was the direction she trotted as soon as she hit the main level.

The smell of breakfast hadn’t quite faded, but there were dishes in the sink. Dean scanned the room, but no one seemed to be hiding anywhere. He heard footsteps down the hall, and when he went to investigate, he found Sam.

“Morning, Sammy,” Dean said.

Sam jumped and spun in the hall. “Oh, yeah, good morning.”

Dean’s brow furrowed. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just,” Sam looked over his shoulder. He was too agitated for Dean’s liking.

“Something wrong?”

“Wrong? No,” Sam said, not convincingly at all. “I, uh, I have to go. Check something.”

“Sounds bad. Need help?”

“No.” The answer came a little too quickly. “I mean, I can go alone.”

Dean wasn’t sure he believed him, but he nodded anyway. Sam seemed sure. “Well, call if you need backup.”

Sam gave him some kind of smirk that Dean didn’t feel like decoding and disappeared down the hall with the most fake nonchalant stride Dean had ever seen.

Well, that was weird.

Dean briefly debated tailing Sam anyway, but decided against it. For all the weird nervous energy Sam had been giving off, he didn’t seem to be on his way to certain death, so he could probably handle it.

Back the way he’d come, then, past the kitchen and into the main room. He stopped for a moment. Was he really going to do this? It would be so simple to go back to his room and go back to sleep, or watch a movie, or do anything else.

His legs carried him down a different hallway before he could reconsider.

The last time Cas had lived in the bunker, he’d spent a lot of time in the library, even when they had some down time between hunts. So it came as no surprise when he crossed the threshold and saw Cas, in a sweater and jeans now, instead of his suit and coat, perusing the shelves with his back to the entrance.

“Cas,” Dean said. He figured he might as well start before his brain could back him out of it.

Cas turned, book in hand, and offered a small smile. “Good morning Dean. How are you feeling?”

Dean considered. He felt like he might lose his breakfast, but that was secondary. He was a little sore, but honestly he hadn't really noticed. “Just fine.” He crossed to one of the tables and took a seat. “How about you? What’s your story?”

“I can’t complain,” Cas said, his tone sincere. He tentatively took a seat across from Dean and set his book aside. “And my grace is fading quickly, so I’m starting to feel more human again.”

“What do you mean, your grace is fading?” Dean asked. Something else to fix?

Cas tilted his head and scrunched his brow. “Didn’t you hear me yesterday? Jack gave me a soul in exchange for my grace so I could remain here.”

Oh. Dean hadn’t caught that part. “I didn’t hear you. I’m sorry. I was tired.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“Okay.” Dean tapped his fingers on the tabletop. “You chose to stay here? Instead of in heaven?”

“Of course,” Cas said, though now he was treading more carefully, afraid of overwhelming Dean. 

“But heaven’s, you know, heaven’s home.”

Cas shook his head. “Heaven hasn’t been home in a long time. This feels like home.”

“The bunker?”

“Well,” Cas said, smiling again, “you know what they say about home.”

 _Where the heart is_ , Dean thought, but didn’t say. “I just can’t believe that…”

There was silence for a few moments. Dean looked at his hands, and then at the shelves and back - anywhere but at Cas.

“Can’t believe…” Cas prompted.

Dean took a deep breath. “Can’t believe you picked us.”

“You’re my family,” Cas said simply. He started to reach across the table, but his hand stopped short of touching Dean’s, instead just resting on the table in the space between them. “I love you Dean. I’ll always pick you.”

There were those words again. Bouncing around in Dean’s mind. Dammit, how did Cas just _do_ that? How had he figured out how to just _say it_? “Yeah Cas, I have to talk to you about that.”

Cas recognized that guarded tone. He wondered briefly if he’d misjudged in saying it again, even though it was already out in the open. It wasn’t as if Dean didn’t know at this point. But, there was no going back now. He settled himself into a more comfortable position, folded his hands in front of himself, and waited. 

Dean took what he thought would be a steadying breath. It wasn’t, but he started in on what he was going to say anyway. “I thought you were dead,” he managed. And dammit, even staring at the table, he could feel Cas’ eyes on him. “Dead for good. I had started looking for a way to get you back, but I didn't have a chance to get everything together.”

“You were going to save me?” Cas didn’t know why he was surprised at this. This was _Dean_ , who’d tried so hard to pull him out of purgatory all those years ago, who’d refused to fight against him, who’d told him, on more than one occasion, _you’re family_. 

“I had to, Cas. Whatever was going to come next. It wasn’t going to be the same without you,” Dean said. He tentatively reached out, as Cas had just a moment before, and rested his hands over Cas’. He felt sturdier when Cas took his hands and squeezed them reassuringly. “I can’t do it without you. Every time you’ve been gone before, it was the same. I would get stuck. Without you, it was always… just, empty.” Maybe this was how Cas had done it. Maybe it was just a matter of momentum. “And now, we get to write our own ending, right? That’s what all this was about. This whole thing, from the very beginning. And since, I don’t know… For a long time, I knew that whatever future I was running towards, it wasn’t going to be enough - it wouldn’t be what I _wanted_ \- unless you were there too.” Dean paused long enough to look up at Cas, and he found that Cas’ expression was so open, and soft, and hopeful, and God _dammit_. “I love you, Cas.”

Neither of them said anything for a minute. Dean was clearly out of words, and Cas could feel tears threatening to spill over. To think, he hadn’t expected any of this. He’d been happy to finally let Dean know how he felt, and now… He looked down at their hands on the table and rubbed his thumbs over the back of Dean’s hands. He let out a short laugh when he felt Dean’s grip on his hands tighten.

“Say something,” Dean said quietly. He didn’t really care what Cas said at this point. He’d said his piece (and _wow_ did he feel good) and now he just wanted to hear Cas’ voice again.

“What else is there to say?” Cas asked, meeting Dean’s eyes again. He certainly couldn’t think of anything. 

Dean breathed a laugh, the last of his nerves leaving him. What indeed? Honestly, he hadn’t thought he’d even get this far. He looked at their hands again. “Promise you’ll stay.”

“As long as you’ll have me,” Cas promised. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d left because he’d wanted to. There had always been some mission, some duty to attend to. But Dean was right. It was time to write their own ending. “And you promise me something.”

“Anything.” Dean leaned forward in his seat slightly, and knew it was true - he’d promise anything to Cas. He’d do it all over if it meant he could end up here again. 

“Promise me that _you’ll_ stay.” 

That was fair. Dean remembered those times he’d pushed Cas away. He’d thought he’d had to. He’d had his reasons. God, they were stupid reasons. 

Dean stood abruptly and rounded the table. Cas stood as he approached, and Dean wrapped his arms around him, just as tightly as he had before, but more solid this time, less desperate. “I’m not going anywhere, Cas, not anymore.”

Dean felt Cas press his face into the fabric of his jacket, and he knew for sure that he hadn’t died in that barn. No, this was better than whatever heaven could have cooked up for him. 

* * *

When they’d returned from Ohio and Dean had made his excuses and turned in immediately, Sam had uncertainly watched him walk down the hall. 

“He’s just tired,” he said, as much to himself as to Cas. “It’s been a long couple of weeks, you know?”

Cas nodded. “Well in that case,” he said, and turned his gaze on Sam, “you should get some rest as well. You had the same weeks.”

Sam huffed. “Not exactly the same.”

Cas looked at him curiously, but conceded. “No. Perhaps not.”

Just enough silence passed to make it awkward before Sam finally said, “Well, I guess it’s time to turn in. Your room is just the way you left it.”

“Thank you.”

They walked down the hall and Sam stopped at his door, hesitant to open it. “Hey Cas?”

Cas paused and turned. “What is it?”

“What happened? Before you went to the empty?”

Cas’ head tilted, slightly surprised. “Dean didn’t tell you?”

Sam shrugged. “He told us you saved him. He wouldn’t elaborate.”

Cas _hmm_ ed. He looked away for a moment, then back at Sam. “I told him I love him.”

For a second, Sam couldn’t say anything. “Oh.”

A beat passed in silence. 

Then another. 

“Well, goodnight then,” Sam managed. He smiled tightly at Cas and pushed his way into his room quickly, doing his best not to slam the door in his haste. 

The room was quiet and tidy, just the way he’d left it. He sat on the end of the bed, trying to process what Cas had told him. 

So Cas loves Dean. Okay. That wasn’t too surprising really. Sam had to admit that the two of them had always sort of… gravitated, toward each other. There had been looks that Sam had noticed and not commented on. (Dean had even said some things, not too much more than hints but definitely not something he would say about someone who was just a friend, when he’d had too much to drink. Just once or twice over the past several years. Sam had dutifully kept those things to himself too.)

Okay. Sam could deal with that. He was sure they’d figure something out. He was happy for them, really. Why wouldn’t he be? His brother and his best friend, that was great!

Why didn’t it feel great?

He tried again. 

He was happy for them. It might take some adjusting if anything actually came of it, but it would be natural, in time. Maybe it was natural, now, and he’d just never put all the pieces entirely together. And Sam loved them both. And wanted them to be happy. 

All of this was indisputably true. 

But Sam still felt weird. 

He got up and paced the room. He’d managed a nap in the car, and coupled with how agitated he was, he could tell he wasn’t going to be getting any sleep any time soon. 

No, not agitated. He wasn’t agitated. He was angry. 

He couldn’t figure out why at first. He kept pacing. His hand went to his pocket and pulled out his phone, almost of its own accord. The lock screen was free of notifications. It wasn’t even that late. But something made him unlock the phone and open his texts. He suddenly went very still, and sat on the bed again. 

Eileen. She was why he was angry. 

He scrolled through their conversations, an ache growing in his chest. She was so witty, and so sweet, and she didn’t take shit from anyone. And she was gone. 

Sam felt tears on his cheeks before he even realized he was crying. It wasn’t _fair_. He’d thought that she would come back when everything was fixed - when Jack undid what Chuck had done. And why shouldn’t she? But she hadn’t. They’d driven by her place on the way home from the hunt. Sam hadn’t requested it, but he knew Dean was curious too. The place had been just as deserted as it had been when they’d left it. 

It wasn’t _fair_.

Did he love her? Sam didn’t know. But he _liked_ her. A lot. And he desperately wanted a chance to find out what could happen between them. And even if nothing happened? She didn’t deserve to go out like _that_. 

Sure, Cas had come back before. Hell, his coming back would be a habit by now if the human mind could ever get used to death not being final. But Eileen had too. She had _just_ come back. Where was the justice in that? Where was _Jack_ in that, if he could bring back Cas?

Sam locked his phone and stared at the floor. He didn’t want to think about it, but his mind kept circling back to the same thing. 

Eileen wasn’t coming back. 

So what now?

That was always the question, wasn’t it? It was how Sam’s mind worked; if something had to be done, he would set the problem out, get to the bottom of it, and come up with a solution. And he would hound that solution until it bent to his will. 

Sam knew he couldn’t bring her back. Oh sure, he _could_ \- he had Rowena’s work, and everything in the Men of Letters’ catalogue. He'd prayed to Jack, though he'd felt a little weird doing it, considering their relationship. And there was always the rough-and-ready standby of a demon deal, but Sam didn’t even bother entertaining that idea. No, they’d done too much fooling around with life and death, and if Jack hadn’t seen fit to bring her back, then Sam figured it was probably best if he left it alone too. 

The thought made him sick.

So maybe he _would_ try. What was the worst that could happen? It couldn’t be much worse than everything else he’d gone through in the last… decade? More? Anyway, he was fairly certain that if anyone could get away with disrespecting the delicate balance of life and death some more, it would be him and Dean. He resolved to ask for Dean’s help the next day.

But… then what? What was supposed to come after? Sam had a full-on roadblock in his mind when he tried to think of what he was supposed to do now. Doing nothing didn’t feel right, even though he’d left the life before. 

He remembered something he’d said to Dean a few years before, about settling down with another hunter - someone who understood the life. Dean had brushed him off, but Sam thought the idea had merit. Maybe he didn’t want to hunt anymore, maybe he did. The fact of the matter was that he believed that there could be a happy medium. There was certainly enough material in the bunker to keep him occupied with research for years. He could still hunt - after all, he was pretty good at it. But what else? Was that really all he wanted?

No. So many years ago, Sam had seen Stanford as his way out of all of this; he’d go be a lawyer, and he’d have a family and friends and a regular routine and he wouldn’t deal with haunted objects or vengeful spirits or werewolves or vampires anymore. (How simple life had been then, he thought.) There probably wasn’t a full _out_ anymore, but Sam’s goals hadn’t changed too much - he wanted to have family and friends he loved, and he wanted to be able to take a vacation and go to the movies and have his morning jog. He’d just gotten a little more okay with haunted objects still turning up occasionally. 

Maybe he’d be able to find it out there, that elusive happy medium. Maybe they all would. Sam unlocked his phone again despite the fact that it was somehow almost midnight and he had to fight to keep his eyes open. He made a few notes of where he thought it would be helpful to start his research the next day. After some consideration, he also made a list of questions he could ask Cas, since who was more likely to have obscure knowledge of what happened to a person when they were scrubbed from existence than a former angel?

When he decided his list was complete (or as close to complete as he could get it while sleep clawed at the back of his mind) Sam closed his notes app. His thumb hovered over the screen. He knew he should just lock the phone and try to get some sleep before the day he had ahead of him tomorrow, but he couldn’t. He reopened his text conversations with Eileen and reread them again. At some point he fell asleep.

The next morning he woke up disoriented. His dreams were fading, but he remembered Eileen, smiling and laughing with him. The memory sent a pang through his chest, and so he didn’t bother to check his phone; he knew that if he opened it again, he’d just go back to staring at Eileen’s messages. 

The bunker was quiet. Sam wondered if he was the first one up. He usually was, but he hadn’t expected to be up first, not with how the hunt had gone.

Oddly enough, the kitchen smelled faintly of breakfast. This wasn’t so odd when he found Dean’s note on the counter. He wondered what time Dean had left, and whether he should be worried. A small part of him worried that Dean might do something stupid, but he decided to leave it for now.

Sam made himself something quick and hot for breakfast while he mulled over his thoughts from the night before, his mind a little slow on the uptake from his lack of sleep. When he’d finished breakfast and had the coffee brewing, he heard footsteps down the hall. He thought Dean might be back, but it was Cas who entered.

“Sam,” Cas said. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” A beat passed in silence. One of Sam’s questions from the night before nagged at him, but he thought he probably shouldn’t open with that this early in the morning. “Sleep well?”

“I didn’t sleep.”

“Oh.” Sam wondered when he’d forgotten how to make small talk. “I thought you were human now?”

“I still have too much of my grace, I guess.”

Sam nodded like this was perfectly reasonable. “Speaking of which,” he asked, “since you were an angel, do you know anything about what Chuck did to everyone, when people were… disappearing?”

Cas narrowed his eyes curiously. “Not specifically,” he replied, though it seemed like he was searching through what he knew as quickly as he could. “I don’t think he actually killed them though. I think he just… got rid of them.”

“Got rid of them?”

Cas nodded, almost to himself. “They just vanished. I think.”

“Hmm,” was all Sam managed. Well that was fan _tastic_. He poured himself a mug of coffee and offered the pot to Cas, who refused. 

“Why do you ask?”

Why indeed? “Just curious,” Sam replied.

There was one thing Sam had to give Cas, and that was that Cas was far more intuitive than he let on. “Someone didn’t come back.” It wasn’t a question.

Sam debated the merits of denying it. He could keep his research in the background, like he knew Dean had done with the empty. “Eileen,” he said, before he could stop himself. “She’s still gone.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And if she just… vanished. Then she isn’t in heaven or hell or anywhere else. And I can’t get her back.” Sam was surprised to find how easily the words came out, despite the fact he felt like he might choke on them. 

Cas’ face turned thoughtful. “There might be a way to find out.”

For a moment, Sam couldn’t think of anything to say. “What?”

“We could try a modified tracking spell,” Cas said, though it sounded like he was just thinking out loud. “Do you have anything of hers?”

Sam mentally kicked himself for leaving her things at her place instead of taking them with him. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. “Not on me. I could get something.” An idea occurred to him, and he pulled out his phone to text Dean; maybe if Dean was nearby, he could just stop at Eileen’s while he was out and grab something.

“The spell might be difficult to change,” Cas continued, still thinking out loud. “If her soul is still out there, we might be able to lock onto it and figure out a way to get her back here.”

Dean’s response came in quickly. He was on the way home.

Perfect.

Sam started to type a response, but another message came in before he could send it. He stared at the notification.

“Something wrong?” Cas asked.

“It’s…” Sam didn’t think he could finish. Mostly because he was sure he was seeing things. “It’s Eileen?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I have a text from her,” Sam said. “It just came in.” 

“Are you sure it’s her?”

That was a fair question. How did he know someone wasn’t just using her phone? He started to type out a response, but then hesitated. “It could be her.” Another message came in, asking if he was there. She must have seen his typing indicator appear and disappear again.

“What if it isn’t?”

Sam shook his head and looked up at Cas. “I know you’re trying to be cautious, and I appreciate it, really, but I think it’s her.” Really, would that be the weirdest thing that had happened in the last day and a half? It seemed pretty tame compared to the last several years, honestly. He finally managed to type a response, a quick _where are you_?

The response came quickly, and Sam even laughed. “She’s at home.”

“What are you going to do?” Cas asked.

Sam looked up at Cas and saw an uncertain look there. He knew Cas wouldn’t stop him from going, but he could tell Cas also didn’t know if it was a good idea.

“I have to go.” As soon as he said it, Sam was determined to follow through. “It’s a hunter’s house. It’s probably the safest place to go meet someone who was dead yesterday except _here_.”

Cas nodded, though he still didn’t seem totally on board. “Do you want help?”

Help was probably wise. Sam thought he should probably take it. “No, I think I’ll be okay.” His mind made up, Sam squeezed around Cas through the kitchen doorway. He promised that he’d call if he needed help.

“Sam.”

Sam stopped short, his body itching to be on the move. “Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

“Yeah, of course.” Sam turned to head toward the garage, but paused for a moment. Everything was happening so quickly. His phone went off again with a text from Eileen, and he responded as soon as was humanly possible that he was on his way. 

“Morning, Sammy.”

Sam jumped and spun in the hall. He relaxed when he recognized Dean. “Oh, yeah, good morning.”

Dean’s brow furrowed. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just,” Sam looked over his shoulder. He wasn’t used to being the one delivering the news that someone was back from the dead.

“Something wrong?”

“Wrong? No,” Sam said. The opposite. “I, uh, I have to go. Check something.”

“Sounds bad. Need help?”

“No. I mean, I can go alone.”

Dean had a suspicious look on his face, but he nodded anyway. “Well, call if you need backup.”

Why did everyone keep saying that? Sam was more than capable of taking care of himself, and he thought he’d proven that. He turned and walked down the hall, trying to keep himself together.

Sam decided to risk it and took the Impala. He didn’t think he’d need anything from the trunk, but it was the best-stocked car in the garage. Just in case. 

* * *

When Eileen woke up, her first thought was that she was _starving_. 

But that… didn’t make sense. She hadn’t eaten that long ago. And why was she on the floor?

She sat up and looked around. It was dark in her main room, the dim light of morning just starting to creep in. 

That didn’t make sense either. It wasn’t supposed to be early morning.

Suddenly, she remembered what Sam had been telling her. It was the last clear memory she had. 

She was in trouble.

She didn’t… feel in trouble. Not anymore.

Where was her phone?

When she stood, she felt her joints pop, and her muscles ached, as if they hadn’t been used in days. She stretched and shook herself, trying to get the blood flowing again.

Her phone was on the end table beside the couch. She tried to unlock it, but the screen stayed blank. Dead.

She had a charger in the kitchen, so she plugged the phone in and while she waited for it to come back to life, she dug around for something to eat. 

Something wasn’t right. Her muscles were starting to wake up properly, but she still felt weird. She felt almost off-balance, and slow. What had happened?

She had been in trouble. Sam had said so. She’d been about to answer him, but then everything was dark.

And that was it. Eileen couldn’t remember much else.

Maybe she’d been knocked unconscious by whatever Sam had been worried about? But she was still at home. If she’d been in danger, she would have been dead. Or if Sam had found her unconscious, he wouldn’t have left her there. And he would have come to find her, right?

“Sam?” Eileen asked, suddenly hoping he was there, somewhere. She leaned against the counter with her cereal so nothing could sneak up behind her. She called once more, louder this time, but still no one came.

Maybe she’d been dead.

The thought was jarring. She’d come back to life once already, but twice? Maybe the Winchesters really were starting to rub off on her.

But dead didn’t fit either, whether or not she’d woken up alone on the floor. She _remembered_ being dead. She remembered her time in hell and as a ghost. Whatever had just happened to her was something else entirely; there was simply a hole in her memory.

She ate her breakfast slowly. Her mouth felt like sandpaper, like she hadn’t had anything to drink in days. But maybe she hadn’t. She drank three glasses of water before pouring herself another bowl of cereal.

Maybe she’d simply disappeared. 

She couldn’t think of anything that would just make her vanish from existence. Even as she felt her mind sharpen up with food in her belly, she couldn’t come up with a reasonable explanation. She thought harder, carefully going over what she remembered from before everything went dark to what she could think of now.

Blank.

Except.

There was a hole in her memory, but something about it felt tangible, like lying in bed with her eyes closed and letting her mind wander. Nothing was happening, certainly nothing worth remembering, but it was still _something_. And there was a flash, very recently - it seemed like the remnant of a dream that was already fading as she tried to picture it. 

Her phone screen lit up then. Finally charged enough to unlock.

Eileen set her bowl in the sink and unlocked her phone, immediately opening her text conversation with Sam. There was the text she remembered typing. It was unfinished, cut off about halfway. There were new messages from Sam too, asking if she was okay and if she was back. 

So she’d disappeared then. Who knew what had happened in the interim, but she was back now. She checked the date and realized it had been four days since she’d started and not finished her text. That certainly explained how weird she felt.

Should she just… answer him? He’d asked a question, after all. Even if it had been a few days, it seemed rude to ignore that, so she typed out a quick, _I’m okay_. 

Almost immediately, she saw the bubble pop up that indicated Sam was typing. It was gone after a few seconds. Eileen waited to see if a message would follow, and when nothing happened, she sent another message. _Are you okay?_

Now a response came in. _Where are you?_

Eileen looked out the window, just to be sure the landscape was, in fact, familiar. _I’m at home._ What an odd place to be right now.

Sam’s typing bubble appeared, and stayed for a few seconds before a short message. _I’m on my way_. 

Eileen smiled at her phone. Sam would have the answers. He would know what was going on. 

She wondered again what _was_ going on. She could handle the knowledge that she’d disappeared. That wasn’t the weirdest thing that had happened to her. It certainly wasn’t the weirdest thing Sam and Dean had been through, if she remembered correctly. No, the part that caught her was that she was _back_ . She didn’t feel like she’d been summoned, and if she _had_ been, then she didn’t think she would end up back at her house, alone. 

The flash that felt like a dream crept back into her mind. It had been loud too, she remembered. Sound waves had a distinct feeling that banged against her chest when they were that loud, and even the memory of it made her ears ache. 

Maybe it _had_ been a spell. Who was she to say? And Sam had always had a knack for magic. 

Could that mean that Chuck was… dealt with? Eileen was sure that whatever had happened to her, it was most likely related, and if she was back, then there shouldn’t be a problem anymore, right?

So now what? She’d been a loner for so long, but now she had friends. She had _Sam_ , and truth be told, she was enjoying him more and more. If their main goal had been accomplished, she was looking forward to having more time to spend with him, away from all the hunts. The thought of their date made her smile, and she longed for another one. She hadn't considered getting out of the life for a long time - because she was good at it, and because she had a bone-deep need to help others - but she was starting to think that there was a balance she could strike.

Eileen unplugged her phone (25% was charged enough, right?) and went back to the front room. She held her phone tight in her hand, just in case Sam tried to video call her, and stared out the front window. It wasn’t long then until she saw the Impala roll down the street, Sam behind the wheel with an uncertain look on his face. Eileen waved at him from the window, and grinned when his whole face lit up. 

She had the front door open in time for Sam to barrel through it and scoop her up in his arms, the door slamming shut behind him. She laughed and buried her face in his neck. With his arms so solid around her, she was sure, really _sure_ that she was back. That this wasn’t a dream. Whatever had happened to her was over, and Sam was here, and she knew he was saying something because his words were rumbling through her chest. 

Eileen pulled her head back to get a good look at him, to ask what he’d said. 

Sam just smiled at her, set her gently on her feet but didn’t release her. “I’m so happy you’re okay,” he said. And the way she smiled at him, he felt all the tension he’d felt for the last several days just melt away. He knew he should test her somehow, make sure this was really _her_ , but she was so solid and the way she was looking at him was so _real_. He couldn’t do anything but kiss her.

Eileen pulled away after a moment. She knew she could get lost with Sam Winchester for hours, but she needed some answers first. “What happened?”

Sam took a deep breath. “Let’s sit down.” He wanted to give her the short version, but he knew that she would want the whole thing. So he told her. His hands stumbled over a couple of signs, but she patiently corrected him. She waited until he was finished before she asked the question that had clearly been on her mind since he walked in.

“So that’s… it?” she asked. “That’s the end?”

Sam shrugged and nodded. “I guess.”

“And… What now?”

Now that was the question. Sam didn’t know how to answer. “I don’t know.”

Eileen looked down at Sam’s hands and took one in both of hers. She wanted to… Well, she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do. This was a lot of information to take in at once, but at least they could figure everything out together. They’d be able to have more dates, and they’d look out for each other, and all the obstacles that had made her a loner for so much of her life seemed to have disappeared. They could build that happy ending they’d both wanted for so long. She smiled and looked up again when she felt Sam squeeze her hands.

“Come back to the bunker with me,” Sam said. He knew everything was all over - all the heaven and hell, the light and darkness, the fate and destiny. They’d made it to free will, and there was nothing coming after them. He knew Eileen wasn’t going to go anywhere, and if he left, she’d still be right here when he got back. But he didn’t want to leave her again. _Ever_ again, if he could help it. 

Eileen’s smile widened. She nodded. “I’d like that.”

* * *

“So what now?” Dean asked. He and Cas were sitting together on a sofa in the projection room. They’d rearranged the room a bit to make it more comfortable, and had spent the whole day watching movies. At least in theory. Dean knew he hadn’t really been paying attention to them. He didn’t think Cas had been either. But Sam and Eileen had been around, so Dean hadn’t really had a good time to ask until Sam and Eileen had turned in.

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean?” Dean shifted himself so he could see Cas more clearly. “I mean, what do we do now? What do you want to do? What do you _want,_ Cas?”

That was a good question. Cas knew the answer, of course. He’d considered it when Jack had asked him a similar question just the other day. No, the real question was, was it an answer Dean wanted to hear? “What do _you_ want, Dean?”

Dean could recognize deflecting. He was well-practiced in it himself. “I asked you first.” When a moment passed in silence, he sighed and ran a hand down his face. So talking about himself really wasn’t going to get any easier, was it? “Look, Cas. I know what I want. I want what I’ve always wanted.” He took a deep breath, steadied himself. “I want my family to be safe. _I_ want to be safe. Maybe I want out of… all of this.” He gestured around, indicating everything about the bunker. “But what I really want right now, is to know what _you_ want.”

Cas nodded. _Out of all of this._ He felt almost relieved to hear Dean say it. He _was_ relieved to be asked. “I don’t want this,” he said, looking around the bunker. “I want to be home. I want to _live_. I want to experience the world without having to worry about saving or destroying it. And I want to be with you.” He couldn’t decipher the look on Dean’s face, but he thought he recognized something in it. “That’s all.”

Dean counted to ten to make sure he’d be able to get his words out correctly. “Cas. How do you do that?”

Well. Cas didn’t know what he’d expected, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t that. “Do what?”

“How do you just. Say that.”

“Say… what.”

“You can just… answer. You had that whole speech before the empty grabbed you. And just now, you can just say what you want.”

“Oh.”

“How?”

“It isn’t… easy, if that’s what you mean,” Cas said. How long had he not said anything? Once the words had started to have real weight, and he’d started to really understand the implication, he’d gone so long without wanting to stir up trouble. He’d come off the line with a crack in his chassis, wasn’t that what Naomi had said? What if it was something wrong with him? Something that would only make things worse? And he’d gone so long believing that Dean couldn’t love him back. It had taken a deal to _save_ Dean to make Cas finally open his mouth. But how could he explain that? “It took a long time - to be able to say anything. You didn’t try to stop me when I left, so I didn’t think you wanted me to stay. I thought telling you I love you was the only way to save you, and so I told you. But I had accepted at that point that I might just be saying it for me.”

A long time. How long? Dean wondered. How long had this been in the back of Cas’ mind when Dean had tried to push him away. Hell, how long had it been on _Dean’s_ mind, when he’d pushed Cas away and felt a stab of pain when Cas just left. “I’m glad you said something,” Dean managed. “And for what it’s worth, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I never should have…” He trailed off. There were too many ways he could think of to end that sentence. “I thought you were leaving because you didn’t want to stay with us. I should have said something. I should have said something a long time ago.”

Cas offered him a small smile. “It seems we both should have,” he said. He reached over and took one of Dean’s hands, squeezing it affectionately. 

“For what it’s worth,” Dean said, “I really do want you to stay. That’s what I want. I don’t want you to leave. Ever.”

Cas looked at their hands. He thought about what their hands had done over the years; all the fighting and killing and healing and helping. And now, he was holding Dean Winchester’s hand. “I don’t want to leave.”

Dean swallowed. He couldn’t believe Cas’ touch could do this to him. “Cas?”

Cas looked up to find Dean’s face much closer to his than it had been a moment before. He thought Dean looked terrified, but there was something warmer there too. “Yes Dean?”

“You know what else I want?”

“What else do you want?”

How long had he wanted this? How many times had he watched Cas work, watched him comfort the people they helped, watched him just enjoying himself in his down time, and thought of how much he wanted this? “I really want you to kiss me.”

Cas blinked at Dean, and could see the uncertainty in Dean’s face. But no, that seemed a perfectly reasonable thing to want. Cas leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Dean’s. He watched Dean’s eyes flick from his eyes to his mouth, and he smiled. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could feel Dean do the same, and he almost chuckled. He closed the distance between them and no, it wasn’t what he’d thought it would be. 

It was so much better. 

* * *

Sam and Eileen were tangled together on his bed. She’d brought a bag with her, but she claimed to be cold in the bunker and so was wearing sweats and one of Sam’s flannels, even though it was far too big for her. 

Sam couldn’t believe it. He’d thought about having Eileen in his bed, but he’d never imagined just how badly he would just want to hold her and know she was safe. Her head was resting on his chest, and he stroked her hair. She sighed, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“What are we going to do now?” Eileen asked. She’d been thinking about it all day. Of what she wanted to do. All she needed to know was what Sam wanted to do. She propped herself up on one elbow, turned on the lamp on the bedside table, and looked down at him so she could read his lips.

“I don’t know.” He really didn’t. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of a happy medium - a sort of work-life balance he hadn’t ever thought would work. But maybe he could make it work. He could find the line between working cases and having time to just _be,_ and make sure to stick to it.

“I don’t want to stop hunting,” Eileen said seriously. She didn’t. She wanted to keep helping. It was why she hadn’t stopped even after she’d finally avenged her parents. But she knew Sam had been through much more than she had.

Sam felt himself relax. Of course she didn’t want to give it up. Hadn’t she said so when they’d first met? “I don’t want to stop either.”

Eileen tilted her head curiously. “You don’t?”

Sam shook his head. He gently disentangled himself from her and sat up; he had a lot to say, and he wanted to sign it to make sure he was clear. _I want to be able to have a life, and to help people. I want to use the research and information we have here to help other hunters. I don’t want any of it to go to waste. I’m good at helping people, and I don’t want to stop._

Eileen smiled. She’d been so worried that Sam would want out of the life. She knew he’d tried before and she said as much.

 _I was miserable_ . Sam didn’t even want to think about when Dean was in purgatory. He’d been running from his pain, and it didn’t matter how hard he’d worked at it, he hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that that wasn’t where he was supposed to be, no matter how much of his childhood (hell, even part of his young adulthood) he’d spent dreaming about not having to deal with the monsters. No, he’d grown into the role that he’d carved for himself here without even realizing it; the monsters and hunters were going to be a part of his life, and he was going to make sure anyone who needed the information he had was going to have it. _This is where I fit. I want to find a balance here._

Eileen admired that. She’d thought she’d wanted out at one point too. She had grown up thinking that she would learn to hunt, and then she would avenge her parents, and then she would be out. But it hadn’t gone that way, had it? She’d enjoyed helping people too much, and she was too good at what she did. What was she _supposed_ to do? Work in an office? “I want to help you,” she said. “I want to stay and fit here too.”

* * *

Jack stepped up to the door of the bunker. He hadn’t told anyone he was coming today, but it seemed as good a day as any.

He knocked on the door instead of just pushing his way in. He could hear voices inside, and he smiled.

When the door opened, it was Cas who greeted him, his face lighting up when he recognized the visitor. “Jack!”

“I hope I’m not intruding,” Jack said. Though he knew he wasn’t; one of the perks of his new power.

“I told you to stop by whenever you wanted,” Cas pointed out. He stepped aside so Jack could enter. He turned and called Dean over his shoulder.

“Well look who it is,” Dean said. He was grinning, and Jack noticed that he looked lighter, somehow. Like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. “Nice of you to stop by.”

“I didn’t want to miss the party.” 

Dean laughed. “Figures.” He wrapped Jack in a hug anyway.

It was indeed a party. There were faces Jack recognized because he’d met them, and faces he recognized because he’d seen pictures, and some he only recognized as a side effect of omniscience. Such a stark contrast to how the bunker had been before, with just their family there. It had seemed so big and empty then. It felt more like a home now. There were more knick-knacks, books that didn’t have to do with hunting monsters, evidence of being lived in. 

“Well come on, Sammy’s hosting in the other room,” Dean said. He had a hand between Jack’s shoulder blades and guided him down the hall, Cas close behind.

They asked how his work was going, and Jack kept it as short as possible. It had been a few months since he’d taken over, but he didn’t want to get his family involved anymore. They’d earned that much.

Sam and Eileen were laughing in the library, but Sam stopped when he saw Jack enter. He tapped Eileen’s arm and nodded toward Jack. Eileen smiled and waved when she saw him.

Their guests seemed to tell the conversation was at an end, and they excused themselves.

“How’ve you been, Jack?” Sam asked, hugging him.

“Good,” Jack replied with a nod. 

“Good to see you Jack,” Eileen said. She leaned up against Sam again when Sam had released Jack.

 _I’m glad you’re doing well_ , Jack signed. Eileen smiled at him.

They talked for a while after that. Jack gave them as many details of his work as he was comfortable sharing. They joked and made references he remembered but didn’t understand the weight of, but he didn’t mind. They were living their lives, and that was all he wanted.

Jack asked them about what they’d been up to, but of course he knew. He’d been keeping an eye on them, and they did pray to him occasionally. He could tell how they lit up to talk about it though, and so he listened.

The bunker was a headquarters of sorts, full of any information a hunter could possibly need when they were stumped on a case, and the information was only a phone call away. Hunters could stop by when they passed through, and there was always a room and food for them. Recently there were more and more of these drop-ins as word spread. The more hunters dropped by, the more the bunker had an atmosphere not unlike the one Harvelle’s had had, back in the day, or so Dean said. It was slow going, but the life was turning into one that wasn’t quite as lonely, wasn’t quite as isolated. 

There were other things too, things Jack had noticed that his family didn’t bring up. They all sat at the table in the main room to have something to eat, long after any guests who were staying had gone to their rooms and any guests who weren’t staying had gone their separate ways. Jack noticed that when Dean set plates down for himself and Cas, that Cas kissed his cheek and Dean blushed pink up to his ears but squeezed Cas’ thigh anyway when he sat beside him. Jack noticed that Sam and Eileen would lean into each other when they laughed, and would often joke to each other in sign language whether anyone else could see them or not. Jack noticed that Miracle would sit between Dean and Cas, knowing that they would give her scraps from their plates no matter how many times Sam would give them an exasperated look and ask them to please not feed the dog from the table.

Jack knew Dean and Cas were answering phones every so often for now, but he also had a feeling they would bow out sooner or later. He had picked up on Dean talking more and more about Harvelle’s, and he had a feeling Dean wanted to go find it again and restore it. He knew that Sam and Eileen weren’t going out on as many hunts, were starting to prioritize the work they did at the bunker, though they were always ready to set out again if something came up close by.

Sure, they still had a lot to overcome. All four of them still had nightmares. Sometimes they would get a faraway look in their eyes and one of the others would come and provide whatever comfort they needed. It would be a long time before they were able to recover from everything that had happened to them, but they had each other, and they were trying.

And Jack also knew that, even though this was his first visit home since everything had happened, he would be back to see them again. It wasn’t something he could help; they had raised him and loved him. And he loved them. 

It was all about striking that balance, and it would come in time. They would each, all five of them, find that equilibrium between working, and helping, and healing. Life would go on. And eventually, that balance would feel normal.

**Author's Note:**

> [rebloggable version on tumblr if that's your thing](https://titlecomingsoon.tumblr.com/post/636276654197686272/wayward-son)/[i'm over here on tumblr if you're curious](http://titlecomingsoon.tumblr.com/)


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